Under The Mountain (9 page)

The Wilberforce had been caught by surprise. He moved again to block the door, but came to the steps more slowly. They were now in the same position as before: the Wilberforce looking up, the twins looking down, the ten steps in between. But there would be no beam of light this time.

‘You can’t catch us,’ Theo said. ‘And you’d better get out. Mr Jones is coming.’

The Wilberforce seemed to do something with his mouth – re-make something inside it. ‘Give me the girl. I’ll let you go.’

‘No,’ Theo said.

‘Push her down.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll drown you both.’ He spoke as though his tongue were a wooden clapper.

‘You can’t catch us,’ Theo said. ‘We’ll go round and round like this all night.’ He moved Rachel and himself a little to the right. ‘If you try to come up we’ll jump down and be out the door before you can get us.’ But he knew Rachel would not be able to manage. Please come, Mr Jones, please come, he prayed.

The Wilberforce stood still for a moment. Then he moved with frightening speed, taking the steps three at a time. The twins reached the far end of the railing, climbed, Rachel in a drunken way, dangled their feet over, ready to jump. The Wilberforce stopped again at the head of the stairs. They were all three still.

‘We’ve got you beaten,’ Theo said. He tried to grin.

The Wilberforce’s face turned grey. He moved again, faster than before, crouched like a skater.

‘Jump,’ Theo yelled. He threw himself forward, hit the floor, and rolled out on to the carpet. Rachel thudded behind him. But she did not roll. She knelt quickly, stood up, tried to run; and the Wilberforce bent his body over the rail, reached down with his huge arm, caught her by the wrist. He began to draw her up like a fish. She made no sound. She had a shocked agonised look in her eyes. Her face was soft, white, shadowy, remote – a face that Theo no longer knew. It was as if she had already gone into another world.

He gave a cry, more of grief than rage, and threw himself forward in a rugby tackle. He caught her round the waist, tried to drag her down on to the floor. His weight made no difference. The Wilberforce raised them both as easily as he had raised the one. Theo felt the strain on Rachel’s body. He let go and saw her drawn up out of his reach. The Wilberforce lifted her over the rail, still with one hand holding her wrist, and dropped her to his side. He could have killed her then, with a single blow – but his plan was made: the lake. He started for the steps, pulling her behind him. Theo met him halfway. He attacked with all his strength, with the ferocity of an animal, with fists, feet, knees, teeth. But the Wilberforce simply walked straight over him, tumbled him head over heels down the steps and shoved him away with his foot at the bottom. He walked on towards the door.

Halfway across the room he stopped. Theo, on his knees, saw and heard it too. Lights, engines, voices, laughter. He gave a cry and scrambled across to Rachel. She was trailing behind the Wilberforce like a doll. He lifted her, tried to break her free. The Wilberforce began to go forward again. Then people came through the door in an avalanche: Ricky, and five, ten, twenty, girls and young men carrying guitars, bongo drums, accordions, bottles of soft drink and beer.

The shouting and laughter stopped. They surrounded the twins and the Wilberforce. They stared at them with amazement.

The Wilberforce had been busy. He had re-made himself. His helmet was a peaked cap now. His pink face glowed with health. His eyes were cornflower blue. The hand that had been a mitten had five fingers which were locked about Rachel’s wrist. He smiled.

‘Excuse me. I’m taking this young lady down to the station.’ His voice was firm, reasonable, perfect. Theo realised the tremendous effort it must be taking. While he kept this up the Wilberforce would be able to do little more than stand still.

‘Don’t let him, Ricky. He’s going to kill her.’

‘Easy on,’ Ricky said. ‘What’s all this about?’

‘He broke the safety chain. He chased us all over the house. And now he’s going to drown her in the lake.’

Someone rattled the chain at the door. ‘Hey, it’s broken all right. Look at this.’

The Wilberforce seemed unconcerned. ‘Stand aside please. I’m only doing my duty.’

‘Did you break that chain? You’re a pretty funny cop.’

‘I’m sorry, sir. We’ll pay for the damages of course.’

Theo began to be desperate. There was something hideously wrong about this. The Wilberforce was up to something. He was too patient.

‘Ricky, he’s not a cop. He’s a monster. He comes from another planet.’

‘Take it easy, kid. Now listen you – Mr Cop – what’s the charge? Why do you want to take her down to the station?’

‘We’ve had a complaint about shop-lifting. This young lady was seen …’

Theo became aware of a whisper in his mind, a thread of sound. It was so weak, so far away, he thought at first it came from the other side of the lake.

‘Theo. Theo. Help me.’

‘Rachel?’

‘He’s killing me.’

‘Rachel, wait. We won’t let him take you.’

‘My arm, Theo. My arm.’

Suddenly a girl shrieked, ‘Look. Look at her arm. It’s all gone grey.’

They all stared. The Wilberforce’s hand, pink and plump, encircled Rachel’s wrist firmly. Below it Rachel’s hand was the colour of mud. Each of her fingers was curled like a dead caterpillar. Above, her arm was mottled white and grey. Theo put his hand on it. It felt like wet rubber.

‘Theo, it’s going into my shoulder,’ the tiny voice whispered.

The Wilberforce smiled, more rigidly. ‘I’m only doing my duty.’

‘Let her go,’ Ricky said. ‘You don’t have to hold her that hard.’

‘He’s freezing her,’ Theo cried. ‘It’ll get to her heart.’ He tried to prise the Wilberforce’s fingers up, but they felt like stone. ‘Stop him. Ricky, please …’

‘Come on, boys,’ Ricky said. He jumped at the Wilberforce, recoiled with a shout of surprise at the rubbery feel of him, then launched himself again. His friends dropped their bottles and guitars and followed him. The Wilberforce heaved them off. He kept his grip on Rachel’s wrist and started for the door. But the boys came back. They piled all over him. He bucked, heaved, ploughed ahead. Rachel was dragged after him, and Theo clutching her waist was dragged along too.

Suddenly Mr Jones was in the room. A high wild cry unlike any Theo had ever heard broke from his lips. He came forward in two light strides; he seemed not to touch the floor. The boys parted and even the Wilberforce fell back. Mr Jones’s fingers sparked like electricity. They slid between Rachel’s wrist and the Wilberforce’s hand. There was a quick angry hiss and a small cloud of steam floated up. The Wilberforce, his face running into lumps, gave a quack of pain. He dropped Rachel’s arm, but at the same moment swung a great blow at her with his other hand. Somehow Mr Jones blocked it. The fist slid off his body, shooting out sparks, and the Wilberforce quacked again. He lurched at Theo, his arms outstretched, but Theo ducked away. Mr Jones’s voice rang in his head. ‘Keep away from him, Theo. Keep behind the others.’

But the boys were not still. Shouting angrily, they threw themselves on the Wilberforce again and managed to wrestle him onto the floor. He rose, throwing them off like sprats, but another dozen came at him. Theo and Rachel and Mr Jones were safe at the other end of the room. The Wilberforce looked at them for a moment. He peered at Rachel, limp in Mr Jones’s arms, at her grey arm, slanting stiffly from her side like the dead branch of a tree, and his eyes, deep in his head, seemed to gleam with triumph. He gave a quack – a satisfied quack. He turned and ran out the door, bowling over a girl who stood in his way. The boys went after him like a pack of dogs. Their feet crackled on the concrete path. But louder still came a splashing sound from the lake, and their cries of surprise and disappointment echoed in the night.

‘He’s gone,’ Theo said.

Mr Jones looked at Rachel. ‘Come with me, Theo. Come quickly.’

He carried her up the stairs.

9

NARROW NECK

‘Will she be all right?’

The old man made no answer. He laid her on her bed and lifted her dead arm carefully to her side. His face was white, smudged about the eyes with shock and grief. ‘There’s a chance,’ he whispered.

One of the girls had followed them into the bedroom. ‘Is there anything I can do? Shall I ring for a doctor?’

‘A doctor can’t cure this. Keep those others out. And keep them quiet.’

He ripped open the sleeve of Rachel’s blouse. The grey had mounted almost to her shoulder. It crept upwards as Theo watched, at the pace of flowing treacle, and began to round the curve of her shoulder. It would be at her lungs and heart within minutes.

Mr Jones’s hands flickered with light. He curved their fingers and gently fitted them in a band above Rachel’s upper arm. A small piece of grey showed above them and crept on, a lengthening worm, making for the base of her throat where a pale blue artery pulsed. Mr Jones laid his finger along it, held it still. His hands were transparent, a pale golden colour, like apple-juice. Theo could feel warmth rising off them.

‘Theo,’ Mr Jones pebbled faintly.

‘Yes?’

‘Take out her stone.’

He loosened the draw-string of the bag about her neck, felt inside for the stone, and drew it out. She gave a faint moan and thrashed her head.

‘Easy, child. No one’s stealing it … Now, Theo, lock it in her hand. Force the fingers. Force them. We’ve got to get this coldness out.’

Her finger joints cracked as he bent them. His own fingers when he withdrew them were coated with a grey oily substance that quickly hardened and then crumbled into the same grey dust that had coated the floor of the Wilberforces’ cellar. But the stone was locked in Rachel’s hand. Moments passed. He saw the faintest tinge of pink advance into the grey.

He knelt at the side of the bed beside Mr Jones and watched the struggle go on. The stone itself would not be enough. It might bring the dying flesh of Rachel’s hand back to life, cell by cell, but before that could be completed Rachel would be dead – the creeping coldness would have reached her heart. So everything depended on Mr Jones. And the old man was pale, shrunken, he seemed to be wasting away. His skin was the colour of milk and he seemed not to breathe. All his life, all his will, had passed into his hands. And they glowed, they danced with light, they radiated warmth, they seemed almost to hum like electric motors. Theo saw a flow of current within them, and knew that this was passing into Rachel and fighting to block the advance of the Wilberforce coldness.

He kept his breathing shallow. Outside the door was a murmur of voices, and down by the lake thin cries from the boys as they searched the shoreline. But in the room there was absolute quiet, absolute stillness, except in the old man’s hands.

At last, after hours it seemed, he raised his index finger. The skin underneath was pink. He stirred and some of the life came back to his body.

‘Theo.’

‘Yes?’

‘I want you to go and sleep.’

‘But I want to help –’

‘You can help by sleeping.’

‘But –’

‘Away, boy. Do as I say.’

‘Shall I tell those people to go?’

‘No. While they’re here we’re safe.’

‘What if they do go then?’

‘I’m not letting them. Now sleep. There’s more to do than you know.’

Theo opened the door and went to his bedroom. The girls, a dozen or more, were sitting on the stairs, talking quietly. He saw that somehow Mr Jones had them under control. They smiled at him dreamily and yet with an odd determination. Outside the house the boys prowled, keeping watch. Theo felt safe, and grateful, and at once so heavy a tiredness fell on him that it was all he could do to stagger to his room and fall on his bed.

When he woke it was morning. He had neither moved nor dreamed. His mind felt wonderfully fresh. He knew at once that this was to be the most important day of his life.

A smell of cooking came up from the kitchen. He washed and hurried down. Ricky and three of his friends were frying bacon and eggs. They looked tired but grinned at him.

‘You were great last night, kid,’ Ricky said.

They sat at the table and ate.

‘Where are the others?’

‘Jonesy sent them home. There’s just us four.’

‘What about Uncle and Auntie?’

‘They’re sleeping. They were up keeping guard most of the night.’

‘Is Rachel all right?’

‘Sure. Sit down. Jonesy says there’s nothing wrong with her.’

‘Where’s he?’

‘He went out a while ago,’ Ricky said. ‘He left me in charge. I’ll say one thing for that old guy, he tells you to do a thing and you do it.’

Theo finished his eggs. One of the boys brought him a cup of coffee.

‘Did anything happen after I went to sleep?’

‘We kept a watch, that’s all. He didn’t come back, that weirdo. He’s either a good swimmer or he’s down in the bottom of the lake.’

Theo felt his confidence begin to dissolve. The memory of the Wilberforce came back, trickling into his mind like dirty water. He put his hand on his stone and pulled it away hurriedly: still hot. How was he supposed to use it? – and when? He pushed his coffee away.

‘I’m going to see Rachel.’

‘Right,’ Ricky said, ‘I’ll come too.’

They went up the stairs and let themselves into her room. She was awake. She looked calm, healthy, rested. Her arm was lying outside the blankets. It showed no sign of its freezing by the Wilberforce. Her stone lay in her half-open hand. She tightened her fingers on it as Theo approached.

‘How do you feel?’

‘All right.’

‘Does your arm hurt?’

‘No. It’s warm.’

‘Would you like a cup of coffee? Or tea?’

‘Yes please. Tea.’

Ricky went to get it from the kitchen. Theo sat on the bed. ‘Mr Jones saved your life.’

‘I know. I guessed.’

‘I’m brassed off with him though.’

‘Why?’

‘He was supposed to be keeping watch. And look what happened. Some sentry.’

They were talking, not pebbling, and when Theo tried to look into her mind he drew back in alarm. She was very weak: her mind was clear, still, fragile – not to be touched.

Ricky brought in her tea and put it on the bedside table. He patted Theo’s shoulder. ‘Come on. She needs more sleep.’

‘Just a minute,’ Rachel said. ‘I want to tell him something.’

‘Well, make it quick. I don’t want Jonesy on my back.’

When the door had closed she said, ‘Theo, can you hold your stone yet?’

‘No.’

‘Go and practise. You’ve got to do it today.’

‘All right. Can you sleep again?’

‘Yes. I don’t want this tea. Promise you’ll wake me when Mr Jones comes back.’

‘I will.’

He went back to his room, sat cross-legged on his bed, and took the bag from round his neck. He tipped the stone on the blankets and set his watch beside it. The stone flickered, then took its seven-sided shape. Its colour, he told himself, was clearer today. And the shape – he saw it for thirty-five seconds first time, without even trying. Elated, he picked it up. But its heat was no less – it burned him like a blow-torch and he dropped it with a yell. He sucked his fingers, scowling.

‘We’re supposed to be on the same side.’

After that he practised seeing, with greater concentration, and in a calmer, less satisfied way. He went inside the stone, as Mr Jones had taught him, he looked out from inside and saw himself peering in. He held the shape for forty seconds, forty-five. An hour went by, two hours. He held the shape for fifty-four seconds.

I’m getting it, he thought. He rested, cleared his mind. Then he reached out his hand and picked up the stone. It burned, less badly than before, but enough to force a cry between his teeth. He held on. It did not build up, it kept its steady heat – and he knew that if he could endure it for ten seconds he could endure it for twenty, and if for twenty then forty, a minute, five minutes. It was tiredness that would beat him, not pain. Pain was nothing.

After five minutes he put the stone down carefully on the blankets. The pain stopped at once. He looked at his palm. It was pink, healthy, unmarked.

He lay back, delighted with himself; but then thought of the next time. He wasn’t sure he could do it again. He closed his eyes and tears ran down his cheeks.

‘Theo,’ a voice said in his head.

‘Yes?’

‘You’re doing well.’

‘It hurts.’

‘I know. But you’re getting better at it all the time.’

‘It’s easy for you …’ He opened his eyes and sat up. Mr Jones was standing inside the door. ‘You don’t have to get burned.’

‘I’m sorry, Theo …’

‘And anyway, where were you last night? Rachel nearly got killed. You were supposed to be keeping watch.’

The old man crossed the room and sat on the chair by the bed. He looked dejected.

‘A lot happened last night. The Wilberforces were very clever, and I was careless. They tricked me – very easily.’

‘What happened?’

‘The worms are waking up. No – don’t be scared. Two of the big ones woke last night – under Mount Eden and One Tree Hill. The rest have been out of the spell for some time, except the father. We still hold him. And until he’s free none of the others can move. That’s the way our spell works. We bound them as a seven, a family, and while the father worm is bound the others can’t move.’

‘How long …’

‘He’s close, Theo. Very close. A few days maybe. But possibly only an hour or two.’

‘Will they come up?’

‘No –’

‘We can beat them. We can use atom bombs on them.’

‘That might destroy them, Theo, but it would destroy your world too. They won’t risk it though. They’ll burrow into the earth. They’ll go so deep you’ll never be able to trace them. And down there they’ll hollow out their caves. Huge factories. Huge breeding ponds. And one day, ten years maybe, maybe a hundred, they’ll come up with weapons you’ve never dreamed of, and machines – hundreds of Wilberforces. Thousands. They’ll turn your world into mud.’

Theo sat without moving, almost without breathing.

‘Is this what you found out last night?’

‘I found out how close they are. They let me see something was going on. They went to Mount Eden, all seven of them, and I followed. I saw the worm had woken. And then they went to One Tree Hill. After that the father started back for Rangitoto. I could only guess what that meant. I was so afraid I went on ahead – as he meant me to. The worm was still bound – only just. I waited for the father, to see what he would do. But he never came. It took me too long to understand.’

‘He was back here.’

‘Yes … I’m old, Theo. Very old. I’m making too many mistakes.’

‘Where are they now? Do they think Rachel’s dead?’

‘They’re not sure. They’re watching. But they’re not worried. They know they’ve almost won.’

‘What are we going to do?’

‘Rachel must sleep. She needs a whole day. And you’ve got to practise. You’ve got to be able to hold the stone – it doesn’t matter how much it hurts. As long as you don’t let it go.’

‘All right,’ Theo said. ‘I hold it. Then what?’

‘Then we act. Tonight. We may be in time.’

‘Act how?’

Mr Jones shook his head. ‘Not yet. I’ll tell you both together. Just learn to hold the stone. No. Later. You need your lunch. You need to be strong. First of all though we’re going to convince the Wilberforces Rachel is dead. Then they might stop watching and we’ll have a chance of taking them by surprise.’

He led Theo out of the bedroom and down into the sitting room. Ricky’s friends were still there, sitting around talking quietly and strumming their guitars. Mr Jones took Theo on to the porch. In a moment a large black car turned into the drive.

‘It’s them.’

‘No, Theo. It’s real. A real hearse. They’ve come for Rachel’s body.’

It came down the drive and stopped at the door. A man got out.

‘Is he hypnotised?’

‘Nothing deep. Just enough to make him forget all about it as soon as he’s back on the road.’

Ricky and his friends came out. They helped the undertaker carry a coffin from the hearse into the sitting-room. Everybody stood around in an embarrassed way, waiting for time to pass. The undertaker seemed to be in a trance. He stared at his hands and cracked his finger joints. At the end of five minutes the boys carried the coffin out again, leaning a little away from it to make it appear heavy. They slid it into the hearse.

‘Stop grinning, Theo. Look as if you’re sad.’

He covered his face with his arms and leaned on the back of the hearse. Mr Jones put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Come on now, let me take you inside.’

Theo let himself be led away. The hearse crawled up the drive and on to the road. And Theo, looking sideways, thought he glimpsed the movement of a blind at one of the Wilberforces’ windows.

‘Do you think they’re fooled?’

‘I hope so. We’ve got to be quiet now. In mourning.’

At midday Uncle Clarry and Aunt Noeline got up. They had the same dreamy determined air the girls on the stairs had had the night before. Aunt Noeline made lunch. Theo practised with his stone again. It burned, but it burned a little less strongly. He put it down after five minutes, then after ten. There was no point in tiring himself. When he had to he would hold it, for as long as he must.

At three o’clock Mr Jones made him lie down. He slept and when he woke it was growing dark. His curtains were closed. Mr Jones was sitting in the chair and Rachel cross-legged on the end of his bed.

‘Is it time?’

‘Nearly. First you must eat. You’ll need all the strength you’ve got.’

Ricky came in and turned on the light and Aunt Noeline brought in a tray loaded with plates of food.

The twins ate.

‘How’s your arm, Rachel?’

‘It’s fine.’

He saw she was holding her stone – Johan – and eating one-handed, and wondered if he should be doing the same.

‘Is the big worm still tied up?’

‘He was an hour ago,’ Mr Jones said. ‘We’ve got the rest of the night but no more than that.’

When they had finished he made them go to the toilet. ‘Once we’ve started there’ll be no time to stop.’ The house was shadowy. Downstairs only the light in the conversation pit burned. Aunt Noeline and Uncle Clarry were there, talking in whispers with Ricky. His friends had gone.